


The Tragic Tale of That One Single Hair

by YurikoNeko (AlaxxisSade)



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Canon - Book, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, basically just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:05:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2809976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlaxxisSade/pseuds/YurikoNeko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shibuya Yuuri tries to grow chest hair. Emphasis on the word 'tries'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tragic Tale of That One Single Hair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedGlassesGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedGlassesGirl/gifts).



> Birthday fic for Red Glasses Girl! Hope this puts a smile onto your face~! XD

I’m Shibuya Yuuri, 16 going on 17, and on course to flunk my studies in two worlds despite having a sage and an omnipotent secreta—I mean, education minister sacrificing their nights to help me.

                But right now I feel nothing but pride and accomplishment, because I have finally achieved one of my goals in life.

                That’s right, I actually managed to grow chest hair.

                Granted, it’s only one strand, and it’s white and unnaturally long like one of those random ones you get popping up on your arms or legs or eyebrows overnight, but it’s still chest hair! I think.

                When the initial feeling of pleasant surprise wears off, though, I start getting worried. How do you protect your chest hair? I know the hair everywhere else falls off easily enough. If I’m not careful, will I accidentally yank it off in the shower? What if it never grows again?

                Just thinking about it makes me shudder in fear.

                For the rest of the day, all I can think about is _chest hair chest hair chest hair._ I even signed that on my documents, but thankfully my subconscious still writes in Japanese so Günter only noticed that my signature was different, and not what it really meant.

                “Your Majesty,” he finally asks, “If I may be so rude as to ask, is there something weighing on your brilliant mind? Though I cannot hope to understand even a fraction of what goes on in the wonderful workings of your intricate thoughts, I, von Christ Günter, would gladly do anything in my limited power to help alleviate the stress on your magnificent shoulders!”

                I take a second to digest his words. Ah, I get it, he’s saying I can ask him anything. Either I’m too distracted today, or he’s gotten even more extravagant in his speech. “Günter… How do you take care of your chest hair?”

                “C-chest—Your Majesty’s c-che—Please pardon me!” He swirls around in a flash of purplish-grey, his voice coming muffled. I see, he must be pressing his nose with his handkerchief to stop the Günter Juice from getting onto me. “I’m sho showwy, Youh Majessy, buh I newer hat zat shot of pwobwem, sho…”

                Somehow that’s understandable. I don’t recall ever seeing Günter’s chest, but he just doesn’t seem like the type to have hair there.

                “Hmm, then who do you think I should ask?”

                Günter coughs, taking a moment to collect himself, and when he turns back to me he looks like the model minister he apparently was before I showed up. “If Your Majesty plans to… aid growth in that area, I would humbly suggest arranging a meeting with Lady von Karbelnikoff. Since she is so well versed in poi—I mean, potions and chemicals, it is possible that she may have come across something of use.”

                Miss Anissina? He has a point, but I thought chest hair was more of a guy thing…

                As I thought, the Poison Lady almost scoffs in my face when I find her in the lab, halfway through her latest experiment.

                “Only useless men would be so bothered over something as trivial as growing hair in unnatural places to prove their masculinity! We women would never waste our precious thoughts and efforts on something as silly as growing or restoring hair!”

                That’s because women don’t start balding when they hit fifty. But I decide to keep that opinion to myself.

                “Anyway, Your Majesty, I’m afraid I can’t help you there. If you are still concerned, however, you may consult with that worthless man over there in the corner.” She turns her head up, nearly smacking me across the face with her flaming red ponytail. “That is, if he hasn’t passed out due to my brilliance and his own unbearable weakness.”

                I’m not the least bit surprised to find Lord von Voltaire Gwendal slumped inside a suspicious-looking fish tank.

                “Y-Your Majesty…” He looks like he wants to hide his embarrassing state from me, but since he barely has enough strength to speak as it is, he soon gives up the attempt. “How may I help you?”

                Asking a man on the verge of life and death about chest hair seems like the very kind of trivial thing Miss Anissina was accusing all men of. “N-nothing…”

                “Is that so?” Even exhausted to an inch of his life, the oldest son is too sharp to fall for my awful acting skills. “Whatever it is, Your Majesty, perhaps you should consider asking His Eminence or Lord Weller before coming to Anissina…”

                The way his head lolls off as he finally succumbs to unconsciousness convinces me to take that advice.

                For some reason, I don’t feel like asking Murata. For one, he obviously doesn’t have any chest hair either, and for another, I don’t trust him not to blab about it to the girls back home. When it comes to matters of national or global importance, he knows exactly what to say, what not to say, to whom, when, where, how, all those things that have my head spinning when I even try to consider them. But that’s only when he’s in his Great Sage mode. I know it’s not good for him to stay like that too much—he’s starting to have wrinkles just like Gwen’s—and I do like him much better when he’s just Murata Ken, 16 going on 17, my only hope in graduating, and my best—and only—friend on Earth.

                But then again, that same Murata Ken told everyone who would listen that I was dumped for an anime character, so I’ve learned to control the things I tell him. As long as they’re not of national or global importance, of course.

                That leaves—

                “Chest hair?” My godfather looks amused as he jumps gracefully off his horse. “Why would you ask?”

                “Well, you know,” I say sheepishly, feeling more like a kid and less like a king whenever I’m around the man who named me. “To seem manlier, I guess. The muscle training helps, thanks, but I thought…”

                He smiles knowingly, eyes twinkling. “I see. Well, as far as I know, men grow chest hair naturally once they reach a certain period in their lives. Perhaps you just have to wait it out.”

                “I know that, but…” How can I say that all these beautiful Mazoku make me feel physically inferior, when Conrad is himself one of them? “Is there any way to speed up the process?”

                “Hmm…” He tries to think about it seriously for a moment. “Someone told me it might help if you go shirtless. Give your chest some air or something.”

                “…Who’s that someone?”

                “Gurrier,” he admits. “I’m not sure if Your Majesty has seen it, but he really has some splendid foliage up front.”

                Which he hides under frilly blouses and pigeons, right.

                It doesn’t sound very likely, but it’s the only pointer I got all day. Still, though I know some dads like a little freedom when they’re at home, I can’t even imagine the reaction from the staff if I started strutting around shirtless. I know for sure Wolfram will string me up for that. He’s gotten more understanding recently, but not _that_ understanding. In fact, he’ll probably freak if I show anyone but him something as ‘private’ as my chest.

                Anyone but him…

                When Wolf comes into our room that night, he raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

                I almost give up the plan right there and then, sitting in bed with nothing on but my boxers. Sagging my shoulders, I bury my face into my knees to hide the heat in my cheeks and reply with a muffled ‘no’.

                That’s why I never asked him. He’s too beautiful, even compared to all the other unfairly good-looking Mazoku around him. Too perfect.

                I can’t help a peek when he takes off his uniform, reaching for his nightie. Yup, smooth as porcelain and completely bare. He doesn’t need chest hair or muscle mass to look masculine. As gorgeous as he is, even in a nightdress, there’s no mistaking the manliness in that sunshine-like beauty of his.

                “So now you’re ogling me.” There’s a smile in his voice as he wakes me from my staring trance.

                “N-no, I’m not!” I hurriedly dive into the covers. Brr, the bed feels cold without my shirt on.

                “If you say so.” Seems my poor lying skills haven’t convinced him either. The cold of the night does ease up a little when I feel his warmth next to me, though, more acutely than ever with one less layer of cloth between us. And when he puts out the torches with a flick of his wrist, I huddle instinctively closer to him.

                As usual, he’s asleep as soon as his head hits the pillows.

                I’m not so lucky, though. Staring up at the roof of our four poster bed, I sigh to myself heavily. What was I expecting, for him to notice and compliment me on my newly-found manliness? Compared to his perfection, one measly chest hair is nothing. To him, I’m no different than I was last night, or the night before, or indeed every night since he snuck into my bed and made himself at home.

                He groans a little, tossing an arm over my shoulder. And before I can think ‘here we go again’, he takes me by surprise, splaying his fingers firmly over my chest.

                A shudder runs down my spine, but in a good way. His touch is welcomingly warm in the coolness of the dark, heating me up the same way his determined gaze does when he’s awake. And I’ve gotten used to his unruly sleeping manners, I really have.

                When he presses his face against my pecs, though, I start feeling a little different.

                “W-Wolf…”

                His only reaction is to frown slightly as the single hair tickles his nose. Slowly, his hand moves down to rub his nose, and then—

                _“Ow!_ ”

                He plucked it! He plucked the single chest hair I’ve been trying so hard to grow! And he wasn’t even awake! He didn’t even--!

                My urge to scream dies away abruptly as soon as he makes a purr of contentment, cuddling even closer to me with his angelic features arranged in an expression of peaceful bliss.

                …Whatever, it probably didn’t even count as chest hair anyway. I mean, it looks so different from what chest hair normally looks like, and I can always grow some more.

                I try not to admit to myself that if he ever told me he doesn’t like me growing chest hair, I’d probably give up the plan altogether, and settle for his beatific sleeping smile.

*

Still pretending to be asleep, Lord von Bielefeld Wolfram can’t help his lips from curving skywards into what he thinks must be a cunning smile.

                Who asked the noob to ask everyone but him about something so personal? As though he couldn’t have told the silly young king that he’s perfect enough as he is, and there’s absolutely no need for him to change.

                Mm, he feels so warm like this, his body lithe but not overdeveloped, his heart pounding with the rhythm of health and youth. If it meant that they could be this much closer at night from now on, then maybe the third son wouldn’t mind a little change.

                Wolfram would need to think of another reason to convince his fiancé to get rid of those childish pajamas. Forever.

**Author's Note:**

> So I tried to write this in as close a fashion to the original as I possibly could~ If you like this style, please give me a holler and check out the available translations brought to you by the hardworking peeps on Baka Tsuki~! //vacation high //kicked
> 
> Update: someone pointed out there's a part in the novels that says Wolf does have chest hair as opposed to the beautifully blank porcelain skin I imagined T^T And I found that part, so I had to change it, ah-hahahaha...
> 
> SECOND UPDATE: WAIT THAT WAS A MISUNDERSTANDING THAT WASN'T HIS CHEST HAIR BUT--!


End file.
